


Torn

by TheMuffinBee



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Romance, literally two inches away from a mature rating
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 19:04:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 17,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMuffinBee/pseuds/TheMuffinBee
Summary: Wrapped up in layer after layer of denial, Caleb has become a master of pretending all sorts of thoughts, feelings, what-ifs, maybes, and wants don't exist.Jester, distraught and alone, sends all of that careening out his control one night in Nicodranas.A somewhat steamier version of "Unraveling" with a different ending.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Unraveling](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812610) by [TheMuffinBee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMuffinBee/pseuds/TheMuffinBee). 

> Major thanks again to @ben-roll-io for being my lovely beta on both versions of this story.
> 
> For the convenience of those who have read the original fic, 'Unraveling,' the plot diverges at the beginning of Chapter 2. Click ahead if you want to skip to the new stuff :)
> 
> As mentioned in the tags, this chapter is literally two inches away from a Mature rating, just to be clear on where it lies on the rating scale.

“Jester?”

Too late, Caleb caught sight of a blue tail vanishing behind the swinging tavern door, footsteps masked by the noise of the raucous barroom.

_ Damn it. _

She shouldn’t be out in the streets of Nicodranas alone when there was still a price on her head, and especially not when she was almost out of spells. 

With wine and a couple of shots in his system, he needed to find someone else to go after her. But when he looked around, he realized Nott was already back at home with Yeza and Luc, Caduceus and Yahsa had gone to bed exhausted, Beau was more smashed than a sailor on leave after she found the tavern selling some of her family’s wine (he needed to talk to her about that), and Fjord…

Well, Fjord had just propositioned a very pretty lady of the evening with as much awkwardness as one could, which had prompted their little blue tiefling’s stealthy escape.

Caleb understood how being skewered and nearly having your entrails ripped from your body as part of some primitive, sacrificial ritual could make someone want to enjoy certain things in life. That was fine. The problem was with whom Fjord had chosen to enjoy said things. Or rather whom he had _ not _ chosen.

How the hell was that man so dense? How could someone be so smart in so many ways, yet so very stupid? He could have shown at least _ some _ emotional gratitude towards the woman that saved his ass.

This time Caleb said it aloud. “Damn it.”

It looked like it was going to be him by his somewhat inebriated self.

Pushing through the door with far less grace than the cleric had managed, he heard Beau calling after him, “H-Hey, Caleb! Where’re ya goin’?”

No time to stop, he fumbled around in his pocket for his piece of copper wire and cast _ Message _. “I’ll be back in a little bit, just...out for a walk.” With any luck, that would keep her in the inn, the last thing he needed was a boozed-up monk running loose as well.

Pausing at the corner, feet a tad unsteady and his breath visible in the night air, Caleb scanned the lantern-lit street for any sign of Jester, suddenly wishing he had the spell to locate people transcribed into his spellbook. His gaze snapped to a sudden movement he caught at the corner of his eye.

_ There! _

Her unmistakable silhouette, head down and fists clenched, disappeared around a corner.

Shit, it looked as though she had forgotten to disguise herself. Where was she going? The Lavish Chateau wasn’t an option tonight, her mother had a client and all of the rooms were booked, yet Jester still seemed to be heading in that direction.

Thankfully, both of the moons were close to full tonight, making it an easy task to tail the cleric. Keeping a respectable distance, Caleb followed her through the winding streets, worrying that she didn’t really know where she was going. Having spent most of her life cooped up inside of the Chateau, she was almost as much of a visitor to Nicodranas as the rest of the Nein. Then again, she always seemed to know the way back home, no matter where they were.

The coastline came into view through the shadowed buildings, the twinkling lights of the Lavish Chateau soon following, and Caleb felt his worry turn into panic. She was smarter than this, he knew she was. Just as he was about to run up to her, she took a sharp turn off of the cobblestone street and down a narrow set of stairs onto a small pocket beach.

Stopping at the ornate railing and leaning against a street lantern flickering in the breeze, he breathed a sigh of relief as she walked along the line of lush trees and settled onto a bench.

Oh, good. She just wanted somewhere to be alone, to think. He understood that sentiment well enough.

But...now what?

It would be rude, not to mention more than a little awkward, to interrupt her. Then again, he couldn’t sit there and watch her for however long she decided to stay out on the beach and follow her back without ever making his presence known, that would be creepy. Of course, he couldn’t leave her by herself. What if a guard discovered her? What if she got arrested and no one knew?

“Caleb? Is that you?”

Well, that took care of one problem for him, and created a whole crop more. He cleared his throat and descended the steps. “Um, ja. It’s, it’s me.”

She straightened up her dejected slump as he walked towards her, trying to appear relaxed, natural. But as he got closer, he could see the way her face was turned away, the tightness of her fingers on the bench's edge, the way her tail curled underneath her.

"Is it alright if I…" He motioned to the spot next to her.

"Oh! Yeah, um, sure!" There was an edge of forced cheerfulness ringing her words. She scooted over to the side to make room, but did not turn towards him. "Did you come to check up on me?”

“Sorry, I hope that was alright. I, ah, didn't mean to intrude." 

“No, no. It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t have left by myself anyways. I just...I wasn’t thinking.” Her shoulders dipped by a fraction.

Neither spoke for a minute, and it occurred to Caleb that this was…uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. There was still enough alcohol in his system that his brain felt fuzzy, his thoughts uncollected and strewn about. What did you say to someone whose crush was currently fucking a stranger? Especially when said someone was your own—

"How are you doing?" he asked, then winced. "Sorry, that was a stupid question." 

Gaze still turned away and out towards the ocean, she laughed, but her voice sounded more like swept-up broken glass than her typical ringing of tiny bells. "I'm fine, really."

_ Sure, about as fine as Beau is sober right now. _

Now she had left him with a dilemma: did he let her statement be and pretend that she was okay, or did he call her on her blatant bullshit? 

Perhaps it wasn’t that much of a dilemma.

He sighed, wondering how much he was going to regret this conversation in the morning. A good deal was his guess. "Jester, we've been friends for a while, right?" 

Her hair bobbed up and down as she nodded. "Yeah, over a year now." 

"Then please be honest with me. If you are as fine as you say, then why are you out in the middle of the night, without either coat or cloak, on the beach by your childhood home?" 

"I just, I needed to clear my head, away from…" Her voice died away, replaced by the sound of rolling waves. 

“You know, it’s nothing to be ashamed about, a lot of people would have done the same.”

She was silent at this and they stared out at the ocean together, watching the moonlight undulate over gentle swells as they washed up on the beach.

The chill of the night air began to seep through his clothes, and Caleb found himself wondering at what point the tiefling actually got cold. Nicodranas may be far warmer than most of the Empire during the winter, but there was still enough bite to the sea breeze to make him huddle deeper into his coat and wish he had grabbed his scarf.

“Caleb, can I ask you a question?” Hoarseness scratched through her lilting cadence, and he noted that her posture had slipped from her 'fine' facade back into the drooping slump from earlier.

It seemed even Jester's abundance of determined optimism could only last for so long, and she had held out for over a year with some change to spare. That was a long time to maintain hope in something that just wasn’t meant to be, and it wore a person down after a while. Not to mention that she was as exhausted as the rest of them after today, if not more so, and unable to seek out comfort from the one person she needed most. One person that was just a hundred yards away from where they sat, so close and so very out of reach

To top it all off, she had only _ him _ there to offer any kind of consolation, and he was nobody’s first choice for that kind of task.

Jester was having a very bad night indeed.

Resigning himself to a conversation he never wanted to have, he grimaced and nodded. “Ja, go ahead.”

With a sigh, she bent over and wrapped her arms around her waist. “If liking someone is such a good thing, then why does it hurt so much?”

His own chest tightened. “I wish I knew, Lavorre. I wish I knew.”

What he _ really _ wished was that he could take on all of that pain for her, because at least _ he _ deserved it, that Fjord could stop being so fucking clueless, that she could receive the same kind of love she showed every other person she met every single day. 

But he said none of these things.

“Like, I knew he didn’t feel that way about me, so it shouldn’t hurt that much, right? But I just keep thinking...have I not done enough?” Her shoulders shook and stiffened. “Because I thought I was being super obvious for so long, and now I just feel stupid. I thought that maybe if I tried harder, he would actually _ see _ me.

“I mean, you know who my mom is,” she waved an arm over in the direction of the Chateau, “If anyone should be able to de-friend zone themselves, it should be me, right? So did I not try hard enough? Or am I just...not… ” Her voice broke and she tightened in on herself.

Caleb gripped the edge of the bench to stop himself from raising a hand to her shoulder. “No, you are. You absolutely are.”

He may not have known what she would have said next, but it didn’t matter. Lovable? Desirable? Enough? She was so much more than any of that, and right now he could deck their half-orc friend in the face for not seeing it.

“Then why doesn’t he…?” At last, she lifted her head and turned towards him.

Moonlight reflected in her red-rimmed eyes and her tears shone like starlight. The breeze had tangled her hair around her horns into an unkempt halo, while her nose and splotchy cheeks had flushed so bright from crying they were practically fuchsia. She was a sniffling mess, and he was out of his depth. 

“I don’t know,” he whispered, soft enough that she may not have even heard him. All he could focus on were her eyes staring at him with equal parts despair and hope, as if he might have some insight or solution for her. But he didn’t know what to do, what to say, or even how to think, he could not _ think _.

Suddenly, his fingers were at her cheeks and he wondered how they had gotten there, wiping away the tears that kept welling up no matter how many times she tried to blink them back. Empty thoughts whirled inside his head, feeling useless as he pushed her bangs out of her eyes and unstuck pieces of damp hair from the wetness clinging to her face. His thumb skimmed down to her trembling chin, brushing against chapped lips along the way, and he wished he knew of a way to make it stop. 

Having no words, no answers for her, no way to help, Caleb did something he had been wanting to do for the majority of the one year, two months, and six days since he had met her.

He kissed her.

She tasted like salt, like sea air, like tears. Her lips were warm, a bit rough, and he felt her breath cloud up against his cheeks. Maybe it was only wishful thinking, but he could have sworn that she leaned into him, just a little, just enough to make him want _ more _ with a surprising desperation. It felt better than he had ever imagined, if only because it was actually _ her _.

All of these wonderful little details barely registered before sense came crashing against the inside of his brain.

What the _ fuck _ was he doing? 

He broke off the kiss, covering his mouth with his fingers as though he could hide the evidence of what he had just done. How could he...He had no right, certainly no right to her. “I — I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I—”

This is why he never should have gone after her when he was drunk.

He would have thought he had learned that lesson after Hupperdook. In one short second, he may have just ruined one of the best friendships he had ever had in the entirety of his miserable existence.

She was blinking up at him with violet eyes so wide he felt as though he could fall into them, an untold number of questions no doubt building up inside her with every passing moment. His embarrassment flared across his cheeks and he turned his gaze to the sand clinging to his boots.

“Just...uh...just...let me know when you’re done, and I’ll walk you back to the inn. Again, I’m sorry, I’m...Schieße.” With stilted movements, he stood to make his escape.

There was a tug on the back of his coat.

“Wait, Caleb. It’s okay,” he heard her say, voice still carrying that tremble from earlier. “I kinda, sorta, already thought that you might, um…yeah.”

He wasn’t sure if that made anything better, or if it maybe made things worse. Looking at the sand on the beach, he found the thought of him digging out a hole, crawling into it, and not coming out again for a few years very appealing.

“How long have you...?” he asked, still feeling the heat emanating from his face.

“About a month, six weeks? I think it was after that Medusa turned me to stone, you kept giving me these, um, these _ looks _ whenever you thought I was distracted or not paying attention. It was really difficult to tell otherwise, and I wasn't certain anyways.” She paused, sniffed, then gave another small tug of his coat. “Can you turn around? I’d like to ask you a favor.”

Wincing, Caleb turned towards her but kept his eyes trained where he had been sitting.

“Okay, I’ve got kinda a weird request for you, and you totally don’t have to do it if it’s too much for you or whatever, but um…” Her rush of words raised in pitch. He looked up to see her staring at her hands, spinning one of the rings on her fingers, eyebrows pinched together. “I-I’m kinda glad you just...did what you did, because I could stop thinking about things for a few seconds. But now, everything just hurts, again. So, if it isn’t too weird for you and you're okay with it, could you maybe…give me a hug?”

Really? That was what she wanted? From _ him _? “Are you sure? I mean, I just, well—”

Wiping an errant tear away with the heel of her hand, she said, “Well, I was going to ask you to hug me anyway, and if I already kinda, sorta knew about you, then nothing has really changed, has it? So there’s nothing to get all weird about on my end. And we’re still friends, right?”

“Of course, but—”

“Then, if you’re okay with it, could you give me a hug? Please, Caleb?”

Gods, it was so hard to refuse her when she said his name like that.

At the same time, to say that he felt conflicted at her request was an understatement. He wasn't sure where the line began or ended between comforting a friend and taking advantage of a situation. And, as appealing as her request was on the surface, was it really worth it? He had already nearly ruined their friendship tonight, and there was no telling which way this would affect things. Maybe she could be placated with a hand on her back or an arm around her shoulders.

Why couldn't he have been this clearheaded five minutes ago? 

His decision made, Caleb opened his mouth to make his counteroffer, but then saw something that was a rare sight indeed: Jester shivered. 

Jester was cold.

It wasn't quite freezing outside, he wasn't sure if it ever got that cold on the Coast, but a chill cut into him with every slight breeze. She had nothing to keep her warm, and offering up his own coat would be courteous, sure, but would also leave him in a worse spot than the tiefling was in now. Of course, he couldn’t suggest she go back to the inn either. 

So, not knowing what else to do, he nodded and sat back down next to her.

“H-how—” He cleared his throat, unsure of just what to do with his hands. Hells, he had just kissed her, there was no reason to be nervous about a simple hug. Then again, hugs weren't his strong suit in the first place. “How do you want me to…?”

Jester looked up from dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. “Oh, maybe, how about like this?”

She turned away, grabbed his wrists, and placed his rigid arms around her waist. “Is this okay?”

“Ja, that’s, that’s fine,” he said, but it was _ not _ fine. How were you supposed to hug a friend you had just kissed? What was appropriate? What was too far? What if he made her feel uncomfortable?

Then she leaned back against him, and he felt every single muscle in his body stiffen as the beating of his heart tripled.

She let out a halfhearted laugh, “Caleb, you know, it’s okay to actually _ hug _ me, right? I’m the one that asked for this...Try to hug me like I had kissed you back, like, if I had kissed you back _ really _ hard. Hug me like you want to hug me.”

That was a bit difficult, because she _ hadn’t _ kissed him back. Well, maybe she had, a little, for that fraction of a second. Maybe. It was probably just his imagination. But what if were real and it wasn’t just wishful thinking on his part? What if she had pressed up against him, had run those lovely, cool fingers of hers over his cheeks and into his hair? How would he hold her then?

Certainly in a way she wouldn’t appreciate, despite what she said.

So, instead of thinking too hard on what she told him to do, he tightened his arms around her waist and leaned forward to place his head atop her own. As he settled her against him, he couldn’t help but marvel at the perfect way her head fit under the curve of his chin.

“Is this any better?” he asked.

“I mean, yeah, but is this really how you would hold me if—?”

“Halfway, at least.” He lied. 

“Hmmmm…” she hummed, one of her fingers playing with a button on his coat. 

He could only hope that was contentedness in her voice, because he didn’t know if he could handle more than this.

Then he felt her tail slither around his calf, sending all matter of wonderful tingles up and down his leg, and he was nearly undone. It took every ounce of self-control he had to not drag her half onto his lap, crush her to his chest, bury his face in her shoulder, and revel in that wonderful lavender scent of hers like she had asked him to do.

No, that would be way too much. 

Truth be told, this was probably too much already. It was, at the very least, a very, very bad idea.

But no matter how much he thought of how difficult this might make things in the future, how hard it would be to squash down his feelings for her like he had been doing for months now, how much more attached he would be to her after having a taste of her sweetness, he couldn’t make himself let go.

Especially not when she grabbed hold of his lapels and cocooned herself inside his coat with a sigh. “Thanks, Caleb.”

Again, the thought came to him that Fjord was an absolute fool to pass up something like this, someone like Jester Lavorre. As much as he liked and respected their friend, there was no way you could ever pay someone for something so...

His own sigh echoed her own, and, without thinking, he lowered his lips to her ear. “You’re welcome.”

Quiet though it was, he heard a sharp intake of air from the tiefling and he felt her… had she just shuddered a little?

He looked down at her in surprise, wondering just what the hell he should do with that. Probably nothing. Yes, nothing was a very good thing to do in this instance. 

It was then that he spied a trail of scattered freckles he had never noticed before, leading from her ear, down the side of her neck, speckling onto the slope of her shoulder, and disappearing into the darkness of his coat. Pictured against her azure skin, they reminded him of the stars hanging in the sky. 

He had a sudden, inexplicable urge to count them, to create constellations from them, to connect the trail from speck to spot with his fingertips.

Also for the first time, he wondered just where _ else _ she might have those freckles.

_ Stop. Now is not the time. _

Trying to erase the image of her spotted skin from his mind, not to mention the persistent thought that all it took was his breath on her ear to make her gasp and shiver, Caleb raised his head back up and placed his chin between her horns.

With any luck, she would feel better in a few minutes and decide to go back to the inn sooner than later. After that, he could down three or four fingers of whiskey at the bar and try to forget how much of a fool he had made of himself tonight.

“So, Caleb.” Jester’s voice, stronger now but a tad raspy, broke him out of his thoughts. 

“Ja? Was ist es?”

He felt her square her shoulders against his chest. “I know I’ve already asked you before, but I guess I should ask again.”

Thinking to himself that he had answered every query she had voiced so far tonight, at least in one way or the other, Caleb asked, a little bewildered, “What question?”

“I’m sure you remember it.” She nudged the top of her head against his chin. “You never forget anything.”

That was true, he never forgot anything, which only added to his growing sense of confusion. “Jester, I’m afraid I’m coming up a bit short here. What are you talking about?”

“Really, Caleb?” she asked, a few notes of melancholy still sprinkled into her teasing voice. “Are you really going to make me ask it again?”

“As I am a mere wizard and not a psychic, I am afraid so.”

A tiny laugh, not quite as broken sounding as before and devious enough to make him worried, rang into the night.

“All right,” she said, then leaned her head back into his shoulder until he caught a glimpse of her amethyst eyes. “Caleb, are you secretly in love with me?”

Oh.

_ That _ question.

“Um…” he began, then faltered.

He wasn’t sure how to answer _ that _ question.

_ …How about with the truth? _

No, that was…He couldn't, he shouldn't…

But what if he did? 

It was the kind of crazy thought he would normally discard as soon as it entered his mind, but it instead stuck to the inside of his brain and held fast, leaving him a strange sense of calm. There was no point in pretending at the moment. The answer was pretty clear in the first place and to say anything close to _ No _ would be an obvious pile of bullshit. He had already let the cat out of the bag, and in a fairly embarrassing manner to boot. Really, it didn't get much more lame than drunkenly kissing a crying friend instead of comforting them. 

His sober self was going to despise him in the morning. But with the expected heady buzz of alcohol, he also felt blood pounding through his veins like he was running for his life and a giddiness turning somersaults in his stomach.

Perhaps it was Jester’s proximity he found so intoxicating at this point, and not the wine.

“Do you, ah…” He swallowed, trying to figure out the words that he had never thought he would say aloud. “Do you remember what happened the first time you asked me that question?”

“I think you just kind of made a face like this—” She frowned, clenched her jaw, and glared daggers up at him with dead eyes. It was a rather good impression. “Then you kind of looked away from everyone and I thought you were going to start crying really, really hard.”

“Yes, that is correct,” he said, "Nice job on the face, by the way." 

"Thank you." She nodded. "So?" 

"Ah, well," he said, already feeling his traitorous cheeks turn scarlet. “Let’s just, uh...Let’s just say there’s a reason I didn’t say _ No _ back then.”

She cocked her head to the side, a look of incredulity spreading across her features. “Wait. Really?”

“Um...Ja.”

“Caleb Widogast!” Oh, he did so like the way his name sounded on her lips. There was no doubt about it, he did indeed find Jester Lavorre quite intoxicating. “That was almost a year ago!”

“Yes, yes it was.”

"Why didn't you tell me?" 

He almost laughed. "Why would I? You were, and are, obviously interested in someone else." That may have been the least of his many, many reasons, but sure. He would go with that.

She didn’t need to be told that he was a flaming wreckage of a human being, or that he would no doubt find a way to spread his general awfulness onto her, corrupt that joyful spirit into something dull and grim and everything she was not supposed to be. And she definitely didn’t need to know that the question of his past was still undecided, that he didn’t know whether it would be better to save his parents as Bren or to continue living as Caleb in the present.

That last bit was perhaps the biggest point of all, and his leanings on the subject were becoming more and more muddled with each passing second. 

"Pffft, that's not a good reason. Interests change all the time, Caleb." The top of her horn pressed into his jaw, breaking him out of his reverie of self-loathing. "How long has it been?"

“How long?"

"Yeah, when did it start? When did you decide I was _ completely irresistible _?" She put a hand to her forehead and swooned back against his chest. 

Oh good, she was getting back to her snappy little self. He fought back the upward curve of his mouth. "I don't think I would call myself quite that far gone.”

Although he was questioning that assessment after tonight. 

One eye peeked open and she smirked. "That's not an answer."

He let out a long sigh, trying to remember things he had forgotten on purpose. “I’m not sure when it began, and I didn’t want to admit it for quite a while…But by the time we reached Darktow, it was probably too late.”

“You’re joking!” Both of her eyes blinked open.

“I’m serious all the time, remember?” Now he couldn’t help but smile, he had managed to shock Jester Lavorre. “I wouldn’t joke about anything.”

She snorted and shook her head. “That’s a lie, no Zone of Truth required.”

“_ Efficient and humorless _ was the way I believe Nott once characterized all Zemnians.” He gave a good try at taming his smile back into something more neutral. It didn’t work very well. 

She snuggled deeper into his coat. “There’s a trickster inside of you, Caleb, I’ve seen it. You’re not fooling anybody.”

“I don’t think anyone could fool you forever, Jester. After all, you’re one of the greatest detectives in all of Exandria.”

“Damn straight I am!” She giggled, then looked back up to him with a squint of her eyes. “Hey, I’ve been wondering. What would you do if you weren’t a wizard? Like what kind of job?”

He looked down at her for a moment. “I don’t know, I’ve not really given the matter much thought. Maybe own a bookshop or work in a library?”

“With your own secret, special section for smut?”

His smile was firmly in place now, there was no getting rid of it. “Of course. What about you? What would you do if you weren’t a cleric for the Traveler?”

“Me? Oh, that’s easy! I’d be a baker, and I would find a way to put cinnamon in everything!”

“Is that your favorite food?”

She nodded and placed her head up against his chin again. “I think it's more like a flavor than a food, but yes! And yours?”

“Hmm...Well, if we’re talking baked goods, I would have to say Buchteln.”

“Ooh! What’s that?”

And that was how they carried on for the next forty-six minutes and thirty-nine seconds. Just talking, enjoying each other’s company, huddling together for warmth, and ignoring what had brought them to this beach in the first place. They talked of foods they like, those they didn't, books they had read or would like to read, things Jester wanted to paint, places they had heard about but had never visited. They talked about everything and nothing at all.

As the conversation went on, Caleb’s spine began to ache from leaning against the back of the bench, Jester would occasionally pop him under the chin with the top of her head whenever she got a little too excited or animated, and one of his legs was beginning to fall asleep. 

It was wonderful.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jester makes a request Caleb finds he can't resist, despite his best instincts and efforts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the new ending, I hope you like it! You may recognize a few passages from the original, since there are some things I believe would stay the same. The vast, vast majority is completely different.

“So, um, Caleb?”

“Ja, Li-Lavorre?” 

That was close. The longer he held her, the harder it was to not call her Liebchen, or Liebling, or mein Schatz, or any other number of little names he had heard his parents use for each other when he was younger.

This had been a very bad idea indeed.

Jester shifted against his chest. “What would you have done if I had asked you to keep going earlier?”

He felt his stomach coil into an intricate line of knots. “You mean when I...?”

She nodded, her hair catching in his stubble. “Yes, when you kissed me.”

“Oh, um. Well…" he sighed, "I probably would have stopped even then."

At least, he hoped he would have.

"Why? I mean, don't you—" 

"Because it's not what you really want." He did not like where she was going with this, what was she doing?

"But,” her tail tightened around his leg, “what if it had made me feel better for a little while?" 

"Jester…Nein." He wasn't sure if he was saying that more to her or himself. 

"What? I'm serious!” She pushed herself up to face him. “What if I actually wanted you to kiss me again?" 

His mind halted in place at the anxiousness in her eyes. There was something about the way she leaned towards him a tad too much, the way that she bit her lip that made him...nervous. He swallowed. “Jester...this _ is _ a, ah, a hypothetical scenario, yes?”

“I, um…” She sat back on the bench, giving him welcome air to breathe. She thought for a moment, staring down at her rings. “I mean yes...and maybe no.”

“Jester…” he said, a warning rising in his tone. Then, a hollow ache pooled in his stomach. “Has...has what we’ve been doing, has it not helped?”

“No, no, no, it has! A lot! You’re so…” a small, curious smile curled on her lips, “..._ warm _.”

His lungs ceased to function at the word.

Warm? He was warm? What did that mean? Physically? That would be an accurate assessment. His mother had thought he had a constant fever for part of his childhood until a local doctor and their thermometer assured her otherwise. But if Jester were talking about the heat he exuded, how did that account for her smile? That look in her eyes? The way she said the word with such a softness that it _ hurt _?

He forced himself to take a breath.

“So, I guess, yeah I’m maybe asking you to...kiss me...again,” she continued, then looked back up at him and waved her hands in front of her. “But, just like the hug, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, though.”

His mind whirled in a thousand different directions at once. Whether or not he _ wanted _ to kiss her was not the actual question here. The real questions were, should he? Did he deserve to kiss her? Would she be using his affection towards her for her own needs? And, of course...

“Why?” he asked, surprised he managed to get the word out at all. 

Her gaze drifted downward towards the bench. “Well, you know, I guess I’m curious…and it felt good earlier, even though it was really short, and um…” a faint purple flush began creeping into her cheeks. “...and, I guess, right now, I just want to feel like someone actually wants me and actually...because, it really feels like I’m not, um, you know — a-and your hug felt so nice that I...I kinda maybe want to, um, try a little...more?” 

“And you’re sure that’s what you want? From me?” He couldn’t even hear the sound of the ocean anymore over the blood pumping in his ears. Oh, he should stop, stop right now. Back away and suggest that they were both rather tired and should go back to the inn. But he kept thinking of how sad she had been earlier, her tears, her laugh, the feeling of her nestled under his chin, her voice when she asked if he were secretly in love with her, and, though it had been brief, the feel of her lips on his. 

She nodded, eyes still cast downward, “I wanted to ask earlier…but I get it if you don’t—”

Her voice cut out as his fingers slipped under her jaw and raised her chin until her eyes stared into his. It was something he tried to avoid in most circumstances, but he needed to see her face, her sincerity.

Should he kiss her? No. Like most of what had happened that night, it was a bad idea in every sense of the term. Did he deserve to kiss her? Both no and yes. He did not deserve that happiness, but he _ did _ deserve the pain it would bring later when he could only remember the way she felt and could not reach out for her himself. Would she be using his affection towards her? Absolutely. Did he care?

Of course not.

He had long thought of himself as a tool to be used, and this was just another way to be useful. At least, that was what he told himself. It had nothing to do with the fact that he would do almost anything to see her smile, to hear her laugh, to make her feel..._ warm _.

She closed her eyes, waiting, just like in those novels they shared back and forth with each other. But it couldn’t be like that between them, all force and hunger and aimless, shallow passion. Not if he wanted to retain her friendship, anyway. Otherwise, things would become awkward and uncomfortable, it could drive them apart. No, he had one shot at this, and he wanted to do it right, to do at least something right for once.

He wanted to do it right for her.

Brushing her bangs to the side with fingers that he could _ not _ stop from shaking, he pressed his lips to her forehead using as much gentleness he had, savoring every last detail from the way her hair tickled his cheeks, to the breath she dared not release, to the slight upward push of her forehead against his mouth. He placed a kiss on her cheek, as light as he could, and another, and another, before moving to the other side to do the same, smiling at the way she leaned into him. Then he withdrew a few inches to look her over, memorizing the sight of her upraised faced, the slight part of her lips, the absolute stillness of her as she waited, bathed a brilliant azure in the moonlight.

Gods, she was so beautiful. But, even as he admired the charming speckles scattered along her skin and way the breeze tangled her inky hair, guilt whispered from the back of his mind that he shouldn't be privy to the sight of her like this, that he didn't have the right to touch her, that he… 

Jester's brows furrowed together and the placid line of her mouth fell as she opened her eyes. “Caleb, did you change your mi—”

He halted her question with his lips, his hand coming up to cup her cheek. It was a simple kiss, light and unhurried, a test to see how she would react. At first, she didn’t seem to know what to do, and he feared he may have made the wrong choice after all. But then he felt the slightest tug on his sleeve, pulling him forward. He moved his lips against hers, soft and slow, the way he always began kissing her in his dreams.

“Oh,” she breathed a sigh into his mouth, a quiet kind of happiness taking hold of him as she began to respond in kind.

Whether or not he deserved it, which he did _ not _ , she had asked for this and he had no power to deny her. He could, and no doubt would, hate himself for his weakness later. But for now, in this moment, he was kissing Jester Lavorre because it was what she _ wanted _ and that was enough for him.

So he poured every drop of affection that he possessed into the kiss. With each movement, he tried to communicate all he felt for her without the actual words he didn’t want to say, the ones he had avoided speaking into existence earlier, the words he didn’t even like to _ think _, hoping that his actions would speak loud enough for him. She traded gentleness for gentleness, her arms wrapping behind his neck, pulling him closer. He paused for breath and brushed his thumb across her cheek, giving her a chance to make the next move.

For all her talk of life at the Lavish Chateau, it was easy to forget that all of Jester’s information and experience was secondhand. She may have known, in theory, how things were supposed to work, but had never experienced or practiced it herself.

Caleb would have never been able to tell if he had not already known.

His only warning was one languid push of her lips against his before her hands were trailing along his jaw, sliding through his hair, pulling him to her. He heard himself groan, unable to comprehend the feeling of it in his throat as she overwhelmed his senses. Her mouth found a rhythm of its own while her teeth nipped at his lower lip, and Caleb came to a horrified realization.

Oh no. She was _ good _.

Knowing there were lines he did not want to cross, _ should not _ cross, not with her, not tonight, not like this, not by _ him _, he drew away. "Jester, wait—" 

Her fingers found their way back into his hair and she pulled him towards her again, their foreheads coming to rest against one another.

"Just a little more," she whispered. “Please.”

He found himself nodding without thinking, his nose rubbing against hers as he brought his hand up to her face again, tracing a finger along her lips. “Ja, okay. A little.”

Trying to keep some semblance of wits about him, he pressed in hard but slow in the hope that it would keep her satisfied. But with every new press of their lips, she became faster, more insistent, beginning to push him back with the force of it. His mind reeled, the ceaseless flow of his thoughts ebbing more and more each time their lips came together. He could either keep up with her onslaught of sweetness mentally or physically, but not both, and soon he no longer knew which he wanted to choose. As she drove into him, he had a wild, thrilling notion that she possessed such strength she could break him over her knee if she so wished. The idea of it alone was...

No, he needed to slow down, keep things contained, under control. He tried to hesitate, break her increasing pace, tried to pull back, but there was no room—

Then she opened her mouth to him, and all his intentions of restraint were laid to waste in an instant. Her tongue beckoned him to explore her as she ran it along his lip, light, experimental, shy, but so very enticing. Something caught fire in his chest that he had long tried to squash out of existence, and he could do nothing but oblige her request, meeting her with an eagerness he did not know he still possessed. If before she tasted of salt and sea and tears, now she tasted like a stream beginning to thaw in springtime, cool and bright, and he wanted nothing more than to drink deep of her. Just for a little while, at least, just a little more, just a little bit longer.

First she moaned, then giggled against his mouth, her laughter bubbling up from her chest and he had no idea something could feel so perfect. Smiling into her lips at the sound, finally, _ finally _ forgetting that he did not deserve to even hear it, his hands found her waist and he helped her onto his lap. She tightened her arms around his neck in enthusiastic response and — _ oh Götter _ — pressed her curves against him until he was flat against the bench's back, his palms meandering at the seams of her armor. Accepting glorious defeat to her demands, he matched each push of her lips with a ravenous press of his own, fighting her back, wanting to devour her inside and out. 

Her hands skimmed upward over his chest to trace his face and neck again and he followed suit, enjoying the way she gasped into him when his fingers met the skin at her throat, sliding down as slow as he could bear. Everything was so new for her, every touch, every kiss, and _ he _ was the one who got to enjoy her newness, to make sure _ she _ enjoyed it too. At last, he reached her collarbone, fingertips grazing light against her shoulder until she broke their kiss, sighing another small, “Oh.” 

That _ sound _ . There was something about that sound that made him realize how much he wanted to hear that sweet little sigh again. Not just in the next few minutes, but tomorrow, the next day, the next week, next _ year _, next…

"Ich will dich niemals gehen lassen,” he heard himself say as he tucked her head beneath his chin and held her against him, arms squeezed tight. He wanted to memorize every bit of her from head to tail, the curl of her horns, her warmth, the softness of her hair, the feel of those surprising muscles beneath that adorable dress. 

"Caleb? What does that mea—?" 

He silenced her with another kiss. She didn't need to know the meaning. The words were for him and him alone, because he may never get another chance to say them again. 

More syllables tumbled from his mouth, punctuated with a line of kisses along one of her horns.“Du bist schön, schlau, unglaublich." For what felt like the hundredth time that night, he wondered how she could have ever felt like she wasn't wanted, like she wasn't amazing the way she already was. “Du bist mehr als genug.” 

He moved down to kiss her temple, nose skimming along the edge of her ear, breathing a hint of an exhale to see if she — yes, she did indeed shiver at the feeling, followed by that little gasp. Then he was nibbling at the point of her cartilage, eliciting more strangled breaths from her with every graze of his teeth. What other sounds she could make?

Once again, he spotted that oh-so-enchanting scattering of freckles, the ones he had been so tempted to transform into a web of constellations with his fingers earlier. Cradling the back of her head, he planted a kiss behind the corner of her jaw where the speckled trail began, enraptured with the way she shuddered and tangled her hands in his hair, a small but brilliant smile lighting her face. 

“Du strahlen heller als die Sonne,” he mouthed against her throat, the words spilling out of him as he followed the trail of freckles downwards. Lost in her as he was, he no longer knew the meaning of what he was saying, only that the words needed to be said. But that was all right, because she didn’t understand what he was saying either, and that was the most important thing.

Her hands strayed to the fasteners at his collar, tugging and pulling and undoing until the cold night air and her perfect fingertips had access to his fevered skin. As her nails skated down his neck, he planted a slow, excruciating kiss where her throat met her shoulder, sucking on the sensitive skin until she whimpered and pressed his face in deeper. Obliging as he craved for more, he ran a series of gentle nips along her shoulder, biting down when he reached the neckline of her blouse. She hissed in a breath ending with a moan, falling backward onto the bench and taking him with her so that they were halfway twisted around each other. He chuckled, pulling himself up to cup her face with his hand and placed another kiss on her lips. “Du bist so stark, mein Schatz.”

She opened her mouth, looking as though she was again going to ask him what he was saying, but her gaze moved lower. She lunged up at the exposed skin of his neck, grazing over him with those exquisite, sharp fangs, tugging harder on his clothing to spread her lips on his throat, his jaw, shoulder, collarbone. Now it was his turn to gasp for breath, to open his neck to her, to weave his hands into her hair and pull her against him with desperation. Drowning in her and at the same time needing _ more _ , he slid his knee between hers — how he wished this bench were longer so he could stretch out and press the entirety of her against him — groaning into her hair when he felt her tail wrap around his leg and, _ Scheiße _, begin to creep up his inner thigh. 

Gods, he wanted her, wanted every marvelous inch of her, and he wanted, _ needed _ her to want him too.

His hungry mouth and greedy fingers returned to her shoulders, sucking, kissing, biting, sometimes softer than the touch of a feather, sometimes so hard she cried out and dug her fingers into his back, always following those delightful speckles down the sides of her neckline inch by torturous inch, stopping just above the swell of her breasts. The tip of his tongue met her skin in one short, slow, excruciating stroke, then another, and another, over and over again, teasing, waiting, never going any lower. 

Not yet. 

Not until—

She clutched at him, moaning a hoarse, ”Oh, god.” Arching against him, she pressed his head lower, right to the edge of her dress, pushing the fabric down a tantalizing fraction of an inch. 

While his mouth continued its ministrations above, his fingers skimmed the material, slipping just past the hem, traversing her softness with the barest brush. She rolled upward to meet his touch, forcing his fingers under the edge of her stays as she hissed, "Oh, _ fuck _, Caleb.”

At that, something clicked into place. His brain shook itself out of its stupor and he stopped, dead still. Heart trying to pound its way out of his ribcage as his lungs wanted for air, he lifted himself up, separating himself from every part of her that he could. Leaning down, he kissed her one last time, slow and sweet like he was supposed to be doing all along. Already knowing her response, knowing it was what he needed to say to put this to an end, he moved his lips to her ear. “Only if that is what you want.”

No little gasp or shiver of pleasure met his words as her hands froze in his hair, slipping down to his shoulders, her tail wilting off his thigh. Uncertainty clouded her eyes, and he swore he could feel a crack run through his heart. He smiled at her, and it was a wonder his face didn't shatter into a million pieces with the effort. Brushing her bangs out of her eyes, he whispered, “...But I don’t think you do.”

He knew this would happen, not that he had expected or desired anything from her in the first place, but it hurt so much worse than he had imagined. 

Leaning down, he kissed her forehead, ending just as he began. Words welled up in his throat that he couldn’t swallow back, words he hadn’t wanted to say, hadn't ever wanted to speak into reality, had avoided saying earlier, but it felt as though his heart would burst open in his chest if he did not speak them now. His hand sought hers where it hung limp at his shoulder, linking their index fingers together, squeezing tight as he rested his forehead against her own and whispered, "Ich liebe dich."

Then he let go and pushed off of her, the frigid breeze replacing Jester’s warmth. He offered her a hand up, pulling her upright and releasing her the moment she was steady. His hands went up to his collar to put things back in order and she likewise did the same, pulling up the neckline of her dress and running her fingers through her tousled hair as she tried in vain to smooth it into something a bit less...obvious. Glancing down, Caleb could already spy a faint line of marks forming along her neck and shoulder. _ His _ bruises, _ his _ marks.

He turned his gaze out to the ocean, but it was too late, the image was already burned into his mind, a twisted mixture of satisfaction and shame battling in his chest. Much to his relief, the latter seemed to be winning, that familiar feeling of disgust creeping back into his brain.

Damn it. He had told himself to hold back, to not go too far, to do it _ right _ . She had just wanted to feel a little better, while he had just wanted to make her happy. And what did he do instead? Acted like a selfish asshole with no self-control, that's what he did. No better than a horny teenager. If he hadn't ruined their friendship before, it must be in tatters now. He didn't see any way back from this, back from all of the ensuing awkwardness and...pain. Every time he looked at her, _ this _ is what he would remember, him failing her, and there was no way to tell when that memory would fade into something more tolerable.

Jester's voice caught his ears. "So, that was, um…wow." She whistled. "I can see why my mom enjoys her job." 

Trying to ignore his instinct to run, he kept his gaze on the moonlit horizon and cleared his throat. "Yeah, um, sorry about…that. I shouldn't, uh…I mean, what I should have done was…I, ah — I'm sorry." 

"Why?"

He snapped his head towards her at the incredulity in her voice, taking in her puzzled expression, unable to avoid the sight of the strands of hair falling out of her half-bun where his fingers had been, her kiss-swollen lips..._ his _ nascent, clumsy bruises left on her skin.

“Why? Because that was far too much. I let things get...out of hand.”

“Well, certain things didn’t get _ in _ hand either, so that’s something,” she said with a waggle of her eyebrows. “If ya' know what I mean.”

Try as he might, he couldn’t help his small puff of a laugh and tight smile on his lips at her joke. How did she do that? Here he was, drowning in his personal sea of anxiety and self-loathing, and she made him _ laugh _. He had been right with what he said earlier, she was unglaublich...absolutely incredible.

"And before you do that thing where you beat yourself up,” she continued, “'cause you have that look on your face, just…don't. People kiss each other all the time, Caleb, it’s no big deal.”

He felt his muscles lose a little of their tension at her words, maybe things between them weren't ruined after all. But still…"Most people don’t kiss each other like _ that _ all the time, unless they’re, ah...you know...you really don’t find this awkward?”

“I mean, maybe a little? But not really. Like I said earlier, I kinda already knew how you might feel about me. It would be sorta weird if you _ didn’t _ want to kiss me, right? And besides,” she raised an eyebrow with a smirk, “now I know that you really, really like me. Like, _ really _.”

He swallowed. There wasn’t anything he could say to that. He still had to figure out what the difference was between having a crush on someone, being secretly in love with them, and feeling like your soul would be wrung inside out unless you put words to emotions you thought long dead. Granted, the words were in his native tongue, so she couldn’t understand them...actually, that might be worse. It was all too much to process, and he didn’t know where to even begin.

Ignoring his silence, she plopped her chin in her hand while her tail drew lazy doodles in the sand. “So...was I good?”

It took a moment for his brain to catch up with her question, then he felt that awful blush returning to his cheeks. “Oh. Um...ja.”

She leaned forward, eyebrows raised and eagerness glinting in her eyes. “Very good?”

“Well, uh…” He licked his lips and pressed them together, not sure how much was too much to tell her. “Let’s just say you seem to have, uh, inherited your mother’s talents.”

“Haha! Yes! I knew I would be good at it!” A satisfied smirk played at her lips. “After all the romance novels I’ve read, I had better be.”

“Yes, well. You’re, uh, quite the astute learner.”

Her smirk widened into a half-grin. “You know, you’re pretty good too. Looks like all of _ your _ reading has paid off. And your _ experience _, of course.”

“Danke, but…” He ran a hand over his eyes, feeling the heat radiating off of his face. “Can we...stop talking about this, please?”

The idea of calling what he had done “experience” was almost laughable. Stealing sloppy kisses when no one was looking and a few successful attempts at fumbling around in a cramped storage room were the pinnacle of his _ experience _. He wasn’t even sure if the first of those fumbles even counted. Privacy was a luxury when you were living in a dormitory run by an authoritarian madman, there hadn't been much time to give in to their driving hormones.

No, the books had been a much more helpful source of inspiration.

Jester’s voice broke him out of his memories and back into the present. 

“Okay, we don’t have to talk about _ that _,” she said, far too complacent. Then, without missing a beat, “Are you going to tell me what all that stuff in Zemnian meant?”

_ Of course that’s what she brings up next. _

“Ah, um.” Caleb wasn’t sure if there was any blood left in the rest of his body with the amount that had rushed to his face. “Um, no.”

“But want to know!” Jester pouted up at him. “I promise I won’t tell anyone, please?”

“I would, uh, hope you wouldn’t tell anyone about anything that happened tonight, but ah…” He tried to recall the most harmless, least embarrassing thing he had said to appease her endless curiosity. If he didn’t tell her _ something _ , there was a good chance she might try to look it up herself, and he _ did not _ want that...Or did he? “At one point I called you clever and, uh, at another point I called you strong.”

She frowned, a suspicious squint framing her eyes. “Those were a lot of words for just ‘clever’ and ‘strong.’ Which I totally am, by the way, so thanks.”

“Yeah well, uh…” He looked down towards the sand. “I’d really rather not say anything about the rest.”

“Fiiine,” Jester sighed. “Keep your secrets to yourself. For now, anyway. I’ll get them out of you someday.”

She could try, but he doubted she could ever make him divulge the things he had said. Not unless she...Well, that would never happen, now would it?

“Speaking of secrets,” she said, her tone light, conversational, wrong. “What did you mean by, ‘I would hope you wouldn’t tell anyone about tonight?’”

He looked up at her. “I thought that would have been obvious. If we are to remain friends, wouldn’t it be better to pretend that tonight never happened?”

“But...what if I don’t want to?”

He couldn’t tell if he were more surprised at her quiet words or the hurt in her eyes. Her tail had stopped its doodling, now drooping limp in the sand. There was no riotous grin on her face or coquettish tilt to her head. Now she sat still, looking as though he had ripped something out of her hands and she didn't know what to do about it. He thought she would have been relieved to not have to acknowledge anything had transpired between them, so why did she look so sad?

His eyebrows knitted together, failing to understand the reasoning behind her question. “What do you mean you don’t want to?”

“Well, I um…” Her gaze rose to the sky and she rocked backward as she thought, the uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach growing the longer she had that unfathomable expression on her face. She opened her mouth, closed it again, then said, “I just…don't.”

He hadn't realized how much tension she had been holding in her shoulders until she sighed and they dropped back downwards, the curve of her lips deepening into a true frown. The face was so familiar to him, and yet so foreign when set on her features. An inkling of a thought bloomed in the back of his mind and churned the unease at the bottom of his stomach into guilt.

Rejection, that’s what that face was. Jester had lived a life full of constant rejection, though she didn’t see it that way. She’d been rejected by her father the moment he had discovered her existence, denied public existence by her mother, her longtime crush only saw her as a sort of younger sister, and Caleb had long suspected she would be spurned by her deity if she didn’t keep up her prankish persona. And now he, the first person to pay her any real romantic attention, was adding to that pile.

But why would she care? This was _ him _ they were talking about. He should be the lowest rung on the ladder when it came to possible partners. 

“Let me rephrase the question. You, um, you obviously don’t feel the same way I do and prefer someone else, which is fine, of course.” Those words shouldn’t hurt as much as they did. “And, from what I have seen, friendships tend to turn a bit...ah...strained in situations like this. I value your friendship very much, and I know you do as well, and I would hate to see that fall apart. So, tell me, why _ wouldn’t _ you want to forget tonight?”

Her tail tapped against the sand, resuming its normal restless movements, a heartening sight to his eyes. “Well, you were my first real kiss! First _ several _ real kisses! I don’t want to forget that! And—”

“You mean, you don’t count Fjord anymore?” he asked, unable to stop his own mouth as something like pride sprouted in his chest. 

She raised an eyebrow. “Compared to _ that _ ? Fuck, no. I mean, I was halfway knocked out and drowning and stuff, but mouth to mouth didn’t feel anything like,” she gestured towards his face with a little wave of her hand, “ _ that _.”

Beyond his control, a small, satisfied smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Good.”

Damn. _ Why _ did he say that aloud? 

“See, you’re _ happy _ about it, right? Which leads me to my next point.” She took a breath and paused, drawing inward on herself.

“Yes?” he asked, something about her tone and her shy posture making his pulse beat loud in his ears.

“Well…” She looked away, that rare, fetching blush lighting her cheeks. “I was thinking that maybe we could, um, you know…”

He swallowed, the feeling thick like molasses. “No, I am afraid I don’t know.” 

“Maybe we could…” she shrugged, fingers turning in tiny circles, “Give it a shot?

“A shot?”

“Yeah, a shot. Like, the two of us, together. If you're so worried about us being friends, why don't we become something else instead?”

So she _ was _suggesting...

A wave of emotions washed over Caleb from head to toe and back again, all of them mixed up and blended together. He wasn’t sure what to feel, what he wanted to feel, what he should feel, and what he absolutely under any circumstances _ should not _ feel. Up was now down, east had flipped with west, and time had started to flow backward and jump forward all at once. But in reality, it had been six seconds since she had sent him tumbling through an emotional freefall. Seven seconds, eight seconds, nine, ten, eleven...All the while, her hopeful, wincing smile had begun to wilt, and he knew how he should respond.

“Jester, as much as I appreciate your..._ kindness _, that would be a terrible idea,” he said, hating himself for the way she looked like he had slapped her out of the blue.

She sat silent for a few moments before shaking her head. “It’s not _ kindness _ , Caleb, it’s…” Her hands went out to her sides, fingers wiggling as she tried to find the right words. “Well, it makes sense, doesn’t it? You _ like _ me, right? So, why not?”

“One, ah, one very important reason," he said. "You do not want me and that is not what _ I _ want. I am very selfish, remember?”

“That’s not selfish, that’s just...fair. But we could still at least try _ a little _, couldn’t we?”

He sighed. “Jester, that’s not how these things work. You need a certain, um, enthusiasm on both sides for things to end well. _ Your _ enthusiasm lies with someone else, and I am a poor replacement. Things got a little, ah, _ intense _ earlier, take a minute to breathe and think about what it is you are saying—”

“Caleb…" Sadness and confusion again flashed across her face, and he wondered how many times he would hurt her tonight, just by virtue of being himself. "...You're not a replacement."

Looking at her furrowed brows and earnest eyes, he wanted to believe her so very badly. She may even believe herself, and if she believed herself, then maybe…Gods, it was like she was offering a platter of poisoned food to a starving man. He hadn’t realized until tonight how much he wanted her. He wanted her smiles, her sadness, her kisses, her anger, her jokes, her hands in his hair, her laughter, her worries, her...just her. Her everything.

Too much of a coward to keep looking at her, Caleb retreated from the openness in her gaze, his eyes darting between the moonlit horizon, the sea, the sand at their feet, looking anywhere but at her and the reflection of his pathetic face in her eyes. 

“Whether or not I am a replacement for, um...for someone else is not the core issue here. Listen for a minute. Please.” His words from earlier came into his mind, the ones he had whispered into her neck, so glad that she couldn’t understand what he was saying. “You, ah, you may not know this, though I hope you do, but you have a shine about you. You are brilliant, blinding sometimes, and you spread that light wherever you go. It's…amazing, almost like watching a miracle. I am thankful I have had the chance to have met you and see you work, to experience a little bit of that light. I will always be thankful for that. But I am not bright, Jester. I _ cannot _ be bright, and I would hate to dim your light. That is what I mean when I say that your offer would be a terrible idea. I do not wish for you to saddle yourself with my burdens, to snuff out your brightness. You deserve something far better than that."

_ Someone far better than me. _

Heavy, choking silence fell over them, and he was thankful that she seemed to have understood his point. With any luck, there would be as little awkwardness and hurt feelings as possible in the following days, allowing them a quick return to their easy friendship.

That would be nice.

He heard her breathe in slow and let it out, a sound more measured than a sigh. “Did you get out everything you wanted to say?”

“Ja. Yes, thank you." 

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw her move and heard a slight scraping sound as the bench shifted beneath him. What was she—?

He felt her fingertips, spots of silvered moonlight on his skin, trail along the side of his face. Weak as he was, he closed his eyes for a moment and pressed his cheek into her palm, ashamed yet unable to tear himself away. Without resistance, he allowed her to push his face towards her once more, and he saw her kneeling on the bench as she sat back on her heels, knees almost against his thigh, and her eyes...

_ Shit _.

Her eyes held the glassy sheen of unshed tears as she stared at him, unwavering, unflinching. His hands already itched with the urge to brush the droplets away with his thumbs, but he had forfeited that right, not that he ever really had it in the first place. Still, she was on the verge of crying again, this time because of _ him _, and he should at least have the decency to apologize for that.

“Jester, I—” 

She pressed a finger to his lips and he swallowed his words. 

"Nuh-uh. You said you were done. My turn.” There was no tremble in her voice to correspond with the wetness of her eyes, and when she smiled at him, something inside of him broke, or perhaps tied itself back together. “That was very sweet, what you just said. Probably one of the nicest things anyone's ever told me. I mean, I know I’m totally awesome and everything, but...sometimes, it feels like I’m just throwing smiles around and stuff without changing anything. What you said...well, it means I’m helping people, making them happy. I’m doing what I’m supposed to do for the Traveler, I'm making a difference. So, thank you. 

"But, you know, I’ve seen you be bright too. I see it when you joke around with me or Beau, or, like, practically every second when you’re hanging out with Nott. You’ve brought plenty of brightness to our group whenever someone’s sad or worried, including me. Especially me, sometimes, and that helps me be brighter too. Just because your brightness is a little quieter or maybe not always as visible, it doesn't mean that you don't have your own bit of light. If _ you _ can’t see it, then you’re either blind or, like, refusing to open your eyes or…something…” She scratched her head. “This metaphor thing got away from me.”

Caleb, on the other hand, felt as though she had directed a spear right through his gut. Jester always chose to see the good in people, he knew that, knew she would always view the people she cared about in the best way possible. But he also knew that she wasn't a liar, not when it mattered anyway, and he wanted to believe her with such desperation that he ached from it. 

“Anyway!" A smile lit Jester’s face, and it was as though one of the moons had come out from behind a cloud. “About all of that other stuff you said…you know, we’ve spent almost every waking moment with each other for, like, over a year. I think you would have had an effect on me and my, um, light by now if that were ever going to happen. So, I think we’re okay there. As for the replacement thing: how am I even supposed to _ pretend _ that you’re Fjord if you’re sitting there whispering all sorts of sweet _ Zemnian _ nothings in my ear? You two are _ so _ different! Honestly, Caleb. You're really smart, but that makes, like, no sense at all! I mean, come on!” She huffed an indignant breath. “Okay, _ now _ you can talk." She removed the finger from his lips and Caleb missed the feeling of it already. 

“Why are you doing this?" he asked, the question like the sound of weathered wood creaking and splintering under too much weight. He had run out of words and excuses to fend her off, going through the motions more than anything as his willpower crumbled. "If you feel some kind of obligation because of how I feel and what just happened...”

“Oh...haha, no." Her smile shrank into a soft curve, shaded with something like sadness at the edges. “No, no, that’s not it…it's because, well...because it’s nice to feel...wanted.” She glanced down. “Now, that _ is _ selfish, isn’t it?”

"Yes, ah, it is, a little bit," he said, thankful she had given him something to work with. "Don't you think that would end up with one or both of us, um, hurting the other?" 

Her eyes snapped to his, an alarming grin spread across her face. "But that's the thing! You haven't heard my _ actual _idea yet!”

“I-idea?”

“I said we could try a _ little _, right? Well, that’s exactly what I meant! It doesn't have to be all super crazy like it was earlier, and we don't have to tell anyone in the group either, since you seemed worried about that stuff." 

"Jester…" 

"Just, hear me out, okay?” When he made no response, she charged onward. “Okay, okay, okay. So, I don't know if you remember this, but I am kinda, sorta, _ totally _ a hopeless romantic." She rolled her eyes with a grin. "It doesn't take much for me to get carried away with things, right? So maybe for a month or whatever, you could, I don't know, hold my hand when we're alone, or maybe give me a hug or a kiss on the cheek or something if no one’s around, and we can see where things go from there!”

Both his mind and voice failed him as he tried to process, contradict, and rationalize her words all at the same time.

“I mean...” Her hand went out to the side, index finger twirling in the air as she thought, then pointed at him. “You hug Nott and kiss her on the head sometimes, right? Think of it as the same kind of thing. Otherwise, nothing about us changes. I still tease you and make you blush, you still give me those _ looks _ , and we’re _ still _ friends! We're just, um, a little _ closer _ when no one's looking. If you don't want to keep doing that, then just stop, and neither of us will be super attached if it doesn't work out. And if my _ interests _ happen to change in your direction, believe me, you’ll know.

“Besides,” she said as her grin turned into a rakish smirk, “after earlier, you’re off to a pretty good start already. So, why not give things a try with me, just for a few weeks? Pretty please?” 

With a movement that seemed both brazen and shy, she slid her hand forward along the bench, wrapping her pinky finger around his. In that moment, he knew his battle had been lost. It was a mirror of what he had done when he had told her he loved her, a sign of affection that meant far more than she knew. There was no way to deny it now, he was drawn to her like a moth to a candle, captivated beyond hope. At this point, he didn't care if he got burned or stuck in the wax and drowned, only that her flame kept shining bright and he could be there to see it and bask in its glow.

Shutting his eyes with a sigh, Caleb leaned forward to press his forehead against hers and squeezed her finger. “Ja. Okay.”

“Okay?” she repeated, excitement rising in her voice. Even with his eyes closed, he could somehow still tell that she was smiling, as though he could feel it in the air around them.

He nodded, not knowing what else he could say other than, “Ja.”

“Yay!” She hugged him about the chest with enough strength that she pushed the breath out of his lungs, giggling at his surprised wheeze. At that moment, it was as though all of her joy began bleeding into him, seeping through his skin at the sound of her laugh and the feel of her embrace. His arms found their way around her waist and his head dropped to rest in the crook of her shoulder, allowing himself a smile as he held her tighter.

As so often happened whenever he felt any kind of happiness, the thought of his parents floated to the fore of his mind. But it was different this time. The guilt wasn’t as crushing, their screams didn’t pierce through his eardrums nearly as loud, and there was no smell of smoke or burnt flesh. Instead, peace settled over him as he listened to the sound of the ocean, felt Jester’s every inhale and exhale, and breathed in her lovely lavender scent.

In his heart, he knew he was still torn between his past and his present, that he most likely wouldn't stop looking for a way to return to that night of fire and ash. He probably never would, Mutter und Vater deserved better than that. So he would keep researching, collecting scraps of information, looking for a way to set right his greatest wrong, hoping one day he could fit it all together into something that worked. But maybe, for right now, he could grant himself a modicum of respite and enjoy the full of Jester’s affection while it lasted. After all, with her penchant for novelty, she would likely tire of his boring self soon, and what better motivation could there be for him to leave this timeline than a broken heart? Until then, however...

Jester shifted, her arms moving to settle themselves around his neck with her chin on his shoulder.

“So, I guess _ this _ is how you would hug me if I kissed you back really hard, huh?” She said as her tail slipped behind his knee. 

“Ah...well," Caleb half-sighed, resisting the urge to pull her closer than she already was, which would be pretty difficult. Unless, of course, he pulled her back onto his lap...he cleared his throat instead. "At least one of the ways.”

“Oooh, and what about the rest?” she whispered into his ear, a finger tracing aimless designs between his shoulder blades in the most delightful way and..._ Scheiße _ . It was going to be next to impossible to consider their new closeness as something akin to friendship when she did things like _ that _ . Sure, he and Nott may hug one another or kiss each other on the head every now and then, as Jester had said, but Nott would never do anything like... _ that _. 

“I, uh, I think you’ll have to find out about those another time, if you like,” he said as he released her with reluctant arms, fingers sliding and lingering along her sides as he let go. There was only a certain amount of teasing he could handle so soon after tasting her lips. He cleared his throat again. “Right now, it’s about 1 o’clock in the morning.”

“Oh god, is it really?" 

He nodded. "1:09, to be exact, and we need to get back our spells for tomorrow." 

“Shit.” She leaned against the backrest. “Looks like we'll be getting a late start in the morning."

"I’m sure it’s fine. Nott probably won't mind some, ah, extra time with her family before we leave, and we’ll make sure you get to visit with your mother. It takes more than a day’s travel to reach Port Damali anyway, starting out a few hours late isn’t going to change much." 

She shot him a crooked grin. “Yeah, that’s true, and it was worth it anyway. It’s so _ stupid _ they _ still _ won’t let us use that teleportation circle. Welp!" With a swing of her legs, she hopped off the bench and held out her hand to him. “Ready to go?”

_ ‘It was worth it anyway _.’

The words seemed to echo along the beach as he grabbed ahold of her hand, reveling in the feel of her strong grip and calloused palms. “Ja, let’s go.”

With what seemed to be with very little effort, she hauled him to his feet, but kept pulling until he was close, too close, close enough that they were nearly chest to chest with one another. As he stared down at her gleaming eyes, he wanted nothing more than to close the short distance between them. What he would do, he had no idea, but if she didn't move away soon…

She laced their fingers together, sensation thrilling through him with every tiny movement, and gave him the cheekiest grin he had ever seen. “Good thing it’s the middle of the night, no one’s going to be watching all the way back to the inn.” Then she was tugging him towards the stairs, laughing that wonderful, tinkling laugh of hers that he loved so very much as they kicked up sand behind them.

He followed after her like a loyal dog on a leash, making a conscious effort to push all of his worries and fear and guilt into the dark recesses of his mind. They could come creeping back whenever they liked, but not when he was with _ her _.

With one last giggle, she pulled him forward over the top step and linked her arm through his, “Now, would you like to escort me back to the inn like a gentleman?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “As I am residing at the same inn, wouldn’t I be escorting you anyways?”

“Yes, but ‘like a gentleman’ is the key thing there. You know, instead of, like, a shitty jerk or something,” she said, poking his arm.

“I'm afraid I am a poor choice for that, but, ah, I suppose I could try.”

“Good,” she said and leaned her head against his shoulder, snuggling in with a sigh. "You know, it’s not like I haven’t thought about this whole thing before tonight or anything.”

He glanced down, distracted from her words at the soft warmth spreading from his arm into the rest of him. “What whole thing?”

“Us. You and me. I’ve thought about it before everything that happened tonight.” 

“Really,” he said, a small, teasing grin lifting his lips. “And just how hopeless were you feeling about your prospects that day?”

“Staaahp.” She flicked his arm. “Saying stuff like _ that _ just makes it sound like I have bad taste, which is _ totally _untrue. And it was definitely more than one day. At least two, minimum.”

“Ah. Well, that makes everything all right then, doesn’t it?”

“Yep, that’s plenty!” She smiled up at him, eyes dancing. "I _ have _ thought about it, by the way, more than you think. I mean, come on, it _ does _ make sense."

"Does it now?" 

"Uh-huh!" She began counting off on her fingers. "We're already really good friends, the kind that are good friends and good at _ being _ friends, even if you try to deny that part. We like each other a whole bunch, _ and _ each of us thinks that the other is pretty cute. Ooh! Not to mention you think the Traveler is cool and you help me with my pranks, that's a big, big deal. Also, you’re very smart and _ I'm _ clever, like you said, so that works. You’re a _ very _ good kisser, and apparently I am too, and I'm pretty sure we both liked it _ a lot… _"

Feeling his ears burning, he reached over to cover her half-splayed fingers with his own. “Okay, okay. I said yes already, didn’t I?” 

“Yeah, but earlier you looked like you still needed some convincing.”

Some traitorous part of him thought that perhaps she was trying to convince herself more than she were trying to convince him, but he rejected the notion as quickly as it appeared. There was no point in this if he didn’t trust her at least a little bit. “No, no convincing necessary. Just...give me time to get my head on straight. A, uh, a lot happened tonight, and old habits die hard. Does that make sense?”

“Yeah, I guess it does,” she said, but didn’t seem to hold on to him quite as tight as she had before, and he wondered if he had already failed her. Or was it his anxious mind trying to make the worst out of a good situation? She glanced up at him and gave a little pull to his coat sleeve. “So, did I ever tell you about Nicodranas’ Opal Archways?”

“Oh, uh...maybe?” That was a change of subject. “Perhaps a little bit the first time we entered the city, but I believe Nott wasn’t in the mood for a history lesson that day.”

“Wanna hear about them now?”

Of course he did. She could narrate paint drying over the course of an hour and he would still want to listen to her voice. Moreover, he needed a distraction from over-analyzing their every interaction. “Sure, go right ahead.”

With that, she launched into the story of the city, telling him about this noble or that noble from two hundred or five hundred years ago, fudging details and making up ridiculous names whenever she forgot something. At some point, her story must have diverged from history into parody, because there was no way a rooster named ‘Pecker O’Flufferbutts’ was ever named part of the city council. It didn’t matter, Caleb probably liked her version better than the actual story anyways.

He could feel his grin growing with every word flowing from Jester’s lips, until his mouth stretched so wide she may as well have used her Wand of Smiles on him. As he snickered and chuckled along with her, he realized all those worried what-ifs and if-thens hanging over his thoughts didn’t matter in the here and now, or even what little of the future he could foresee. All that mattered was the little blue tiefling at his side and the way she fit against him like she was always meant to be there, how she seemed to glow brighter than the streetlamps dotting their path, how _ happy _ she looked to walk arm in arm with him and spin her tall tales. It was far more than he deserved, but so long as she didn’t care about that, then neither would he.

Their walk seemed to slow the closer they got to the tavern, whether it was because of him or her or both he wasn’t sure, but Caleb was grateful for every extra second she was at his side. They paused outside the door and unlinked themselves from one another, sharing an awkward glance, eyes darting away and back again with shy smiles on their faces.

He knew if they were in one of their romance novels, this would be where he leaned down and kissed her again. Of course, he tried to tell himself, they _ weren’t _ in one of those stories, and were in all actuality two people who had very little clue as to what the hell they were doing or where their boundaries had been drawn.

Taking a breath, she opened her mouth to say — _ something _ , he wasn’t sure what, but _ something _ — as she moved towards him with an infinitesimal shuffle of a step, her hands drifting towards his again. He reached out to meet her and—

“Fuck you!” cried a familiar voice.

His hands stopped in midair and their gazes snapped towards the door before them. Then they pushed into the tavern together, Jester’s hand grabbing ahold of her Holy Symbol as he reached into his components pouch, his other hand already tracing runes in the air. And there was Beauregard, standing in the middle of an empty tavern, fists clenched and swaying on her feet, squaring off against a balding, clearly exasperated barkeeper.

The man turned towards them, pointing an accusatory finger with jangling keys in hand. “You the _ friends _ this asshole’s been waiting on?”

“Um...yes?” Jester dropped her Symbol, forming herself into as harmless a posture as she could.

“She’s been burning my candles down for the last hour, and I’m on the kitchen shift in the morning. Take yourselves upstairs to your rooms afore I kick you out into the cold!” He jerked his thumb over his shoulder. “Get!”

“Yep! Right away! We’re _ super _ tired, aren’t we, Beau?” Jester put an arm around Beau’s shoulders and began leading her towards the stairs.

The monk grumbled something unintelligible enough that it could have been taken as either a challenge or a sign of submission, but followed Jester’s lead all the same.

Caleb dug around in his pockets for a few silver and handed them to the innkeeper. “Here, as thanks for letting her wait as long as you did. Our, uh, apologies for the inconvenience.”

This seemed to appease the man well enough. He gave Caleb a stiff nod and a cordial goodnight before snuffing a few candles, locking the front door, and disappearing into a side room in the span of a few seconds.

Caleb followed the dim light coming from the top of the stairs, grateful the innkeeper had left an oil lamp burning in the hallway above. He placed a foot on the bottom step to ascend, but stopped when he saw Beauregard push away from Jester on the landing, a swerving finger directed somewhat in front of her.

“W-wait. Wait.”

“Wait?” Jester echoed.

“Wait. You...you,” Beau began, still pointing a little off her mark, “arrrre you okay? I was — I was getting worried about y-you.”

“Aw, Beau, you’re so sweet!” Jester gave her a hug that may have been a tad too enthusiastic if the monk’s slight stumble were any indication. “Yes, I’m fine. I just needed to take a walk and…work some things out, I guess. It helped, a lot.”

She spared a warm glance down towards the foot of the stairs where Caleb leaned against the bannister, glad he had not crowded in on their conversation.

“S-sooo I don’t need ta’ challenge Captain Balls-for-Brains to a duel or anythin'? Maybe get some r-real punchesh in when we spar t’morrow? ”

“Nah, I’m doing much better. Thanks for the offer, though!” Jester again attempted to place her arm around her friend’s shoulders as she sing-songed, “Okay now, drunky, time for be-eed.”

“H-hey,” Beau squinted and cocked her head, not moving from her spot, “what happened to yooour, uh, your hair? S’all over the place.”

_ Schieße. _

Caleb could have kicked himself. Neither of them had thought to give any real effort to tidying up their appearances on the way to the inn. Sure, they couldn’t have known anyone would wait up for them, but still. He bit the inside of his cheek as he remembered there was also a telltale trail of marks on Jester’s neck.

_ What a sloppy mistake. _

“Oh, you know,” Jester said as she examined a lock of hair and then let it fall over her neck and shoulder with a nonchalant flick of the wrist. Caleb felt a strange burst of pride at the motion; what a clever little cleric indeed. “I got into a fight with a tree branch earlier. It put up a good battle, but I _ totally _ won. It was a real dick too, not just because it messed up my hair and stuff, but it _ actually _looked like a dick. Like, it had these two gnarled, knobby—”

“Oookay,” Beau said as she took a swaying step towards the stairs. "That answers m’question." 

Jester threw a toothy grin over her shoulder at him, with waggling eyebrows and everything, and Caleb felt his own conspiratorial smile answer hers without any permission from his brain.

Oh, he was in deep now. There might not be a way to go back to the way things had been between the two of them, no way to be content with her happiness alone and whoever that might have included in the future. It was a prospect that left his stomach filled with a feeling akin to the fizzing of a bubbling wine, instead of the aching resignation he had become so used to in the last year. Most troubling of all, he didn’t think he _ wanted _ to go back to the way things had been.

Beau’s feet stopped with a shuffle at the edge of the landing. Jester’s head snapped towards her friend in an instant, now wearing a smiling mask of innocence.

“Hey, uhhh...” the monk blinked with bleary eyes at her friend. “You comin’?”

“In a minute,” Jester beamed, “I’m just going to say goodnight to Caleb”

“Ah, alright, alright,” Beau said as she began hauling herself up the steps. “See you upstairs.”

“‘Kay, goodnight!”

“G’night.”

Once Beau reached the top of the stairs and began hobbling towards the girls’ room, Jester turned around to face him, her hands clasped behind her back as she rocked from heels to toes and back again. As though a string had snapped taut between them, his feet began to move up the stairway, drawn towards her by compulsion alone. He stopped a step below her, still a few inches taller than the diminutive tiefling.

“Hi,” she said, a goofy grin back on her face.

“Hi.” He smiled in return, an automatic reaction. His eyes then fell on the faint bruises littering her skin, and his smile vanished.

She tilted her head down to the side to catch his eyes again. “What’s wrong?”

“Um, you may want to take care of, uh, some of the...discolorations on your...neck.”

“Oh my god! Did you really give me a hickey?” she asked as she bounced up and down on her toes, once again wiggling her eyebrows with ferocity. “I thought you did! Oh-ho, Caleb!”

He rubbed the back of his head. “Yeah, um, maybe more like a few, rather than just one. Sorr—”

She held up a finger, and for half a second he had the insane hope that she would again place it over his mouth. “Nope, no apologies! Especially not for _ that _. Now, I think I have one last spell left in me, where am I aiming?”

“Aiming?” He furrowed his brow. She didn’t have to target specific areas, did she? No, he knew she had healed up a gash on his arm or arrow in his gut with nothing more than a hand to his back before.

“Yeah! Show me where they are.”

He waved a vague finger towards the left side of her neck and shoulder. “They’re, um, over here.”

She rolled her eyes. “No, silly, _ show me _ where they are.” Then she grabbed his hand, planting her middle and index fingers over his before pulling his hand towards her neck. “Over here?”

“Ja, um, right h-here.” He touched the first of her bruises — _ his _ bruises, he reminded himself — intending a brief brush against her skin. But she held his hand in place with a firm grip, not letting him escape.

“All right then,” she half-sang as she grabbed her Holy Symbol and began her invocation. “Oh, Traveler, your most favorite-est of clerics might have a few _ Wounds _ in need of _ Curing _. If you could help with that, it would be pretty cool. Please and thank you!” Then her eyes locked on to his and she nudged his hand. “Show me where.”

Caleb not only saw but _ felt _ the familiar green sparks emanating from the fingers that held his down, and he obeyed her command. Verdant energy fizzled and popped as their joined hands, hers following after his, slid down her neck to her collarbone. Magic washed the faint mottling of purple on her skin back to its healthy cerulean and it was…

Religion had never been an interest of his, and he had always been far more skilled at destroying the things around him than mending things that had been destroyed. But, for that moment, he wished he had chosen to be a healer. How wonderful it would be to run his lips along her skin and close up her wounds and clear her bruises, rather than leaving blood pooling under her flesh where he had bitten down too hard in his fervor. Even just this, watching her sigh and close her eyes as their fingers traveled together along her shoulder, her healing and magic flowing under his hand and into her skin, her gentle palm pressing him ever onwards, there could be no other word for it than..._ divine _ . Somewhere in between the hazy fog of his mind and the rush of blood careening through his veins, the thought occurred to him that if _ she _ could be his deity, he might worship every day without fail.

The green sparks faded away — she must have noticed — but still she held onto him, eyes closed, her fingers guiding his along the same path his mouth had taken earlier, skimming the edge of her collarbone so slow that it was a delightful form of torture all on its own.

They were supposed to be trying a _ little _ , he told himself, and if they kept going it would be a _ lot _ more than a _ little _ . Truth be told, it was probably past that point if he thought about it, but it was becoming harder and harder to think by the second. He should say something, yes, and he _ did _ try to say something, but whatever vocalization he made came out more as a dry creak than a word or her name or whatever string of nonsense his mind could put together. It must have been enough, however, because she finally, unfortunately, _ thankfully _ stopped and he released a breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding. He would have liked to blame his sudden feeling of lightheadedness on that, but he knew it wasn’t the case.

Jester blinked and looked up at him, eyes half-lidded and sparking like magic, then glanced over to her free hand that had twisted itself into the lapel of his coat without either of them noticing. Her gaze met his again, wearing a smug, coquettish smile that grew wider with each passing moment.

"Thank you, Cay-leb," she said with a tilt of her head, removing his hand from her shoulder, lowering it between them. "You've been very helpful." 

“You are, ah, w-welcome.” He knew it was a stupid response even as he opened his mouth to say it. Helpful? He had done nothing, she did not need his help to heal herself. She had to have been looking for a specific response from him, some kind of flirtation or witty bit of banter, but it was almost all he could do at the moment to breathe.

Her smile softened, taking pity on him and his sudden inability to articulate any kind of complex thought. “No, really though. Thank you, Caleb. For everything tonight. And also, um…” he felt her again wrap her pinkie finger around his own, “Thank you for this. It’s very sweet.”

Then she raised herself onto her toes and pressed a slow kiss to his cheek, the kind that made his skin tingle in expectation of another and another and another at his jaw or temple or neck. Even after her lips left him, she stayed near for a few seconds, their fingers wound together, her hand pressed to his chest. Then she leaned back to survey his frozen features and lifted her hand to cover a giggle, looking shy and satisfied all at once.

Götter verdammt noch mal. He was thirty-four years old, she shouldn’t be able to reduce him to a flushing mess like he was twelve, considering everything they had done that night. Yet here he was, rooted to the staircase, fingers pressed to where her mouth had been, speechless. 

She smoothed out the lapel of his coat, her hands running along the material a beat or two too long. "Goodnight, Cay-leb.” She stepped back and turned away with a little swish of her tail, grinning over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow."

Tomorrow. Tomorrow, she may very well come to her senses and reconsider their _ agreement _ . Tomorrow, she might regret everything they had done or said that night. Tomorrow, she might decide that she _ did _ love Fjord and for Caleb to have hoped for anything else was nothing but sheer folly.

Tomorrow, one of them could die. Today had been a close call, after all. 

Without any actual thought or plan behind it, he found himself stepping forward to grab hold of her trailing sleeve, words still unwilling to form in his brain, syllables failing to fall from his mouth. It felt rather like some sort of dream, his hands disconnected from his blank mind as he pulled her back a step with a gentle tug.

She looked back at him. "Caleb?"

He kept moving forward, his hand coming to rest at her waist with a light touch, his mouth hovering by her ear. "Gute Nacht, Liebling."

His lips grazed her temple, meaning to leave the slightest kiss, but Jester closed her eyes with a smile and leaned into him. With a gentle grasp, she took hold of his hands and wrapped his arms across her front, much like how they had sat together on the beach.

“Hmmm…” She leaned her head back against his shoulder. “Hey, Caleb?”

“Mhmm?” he responded, not sure how things had ended up this way and feeling too happy to care.

“I know what ‘Gute Nacht’ means, but I don’t know that last word you said…'Leebleeng,’ right?" 

_ Shit. _

At last, his brain caught up to what the rest of him had been doing and his arms stiffened around her.

She poked his cheek with the tip of her horn and sighed, her voice a little exasperated under a teasing tone. "It’s another one of those things you’re not going to tell me, isn’t it?”

“Um...ja.”

“You know, that word...It sounds kinda like one of the things you said earlier. Ummm...” She tapped a finger against the back of his hand as she thought. Then she leaned to the side and craned her head towards him until she met his eyes, trapping him in her shining hues of violet. “I think it was something along the lines of ‘Eegh leeb-uh deegh.’ Am I close?”

Time stopped. His breathing, his heart, the sputtering sparks of thought in his head, any part of the world that lay outside her curious gaze, it all stopped. It would have been painful and all too wonderful to hear her say those words in Common, but to hear them in Zemnian, while she was wrapped up in his arms, staring him straight in the eye…gods, it was too much. 

He let go of her, backing away by half a step before his mutinous hands and mouth could do anything else, the lightness in his head spreading into his chest.

She turned around, a frown on her lips. “Did I remember it wrong? Did I sound stupid?” Then a gleam caught her eye. “Oooh! Did I say a curse word? Or maybe…” she stepped towards him and shimmied her shoulders “...maybe I said something dirty?”

He couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped his lips, nor the grin on his face as he shook his head. “Nein, you’ll get no hints from me.”

“Awww! No fair!” She gave a little stamp of her foot, but there was laughter in her eyes. “Are you really not going to tell me, though?”

Again, he began to shake his head, then stopped. He pursed his lips together, debating with himself. His defenses began to buckle once more as he watched her try to pout without laughing, that heady feeling from before refusing to ebb, and he bestowed a small concession to the both of them. “Maybe one day. That depends a good deal on you…” this time he allowed himself to enjoy the taste of the word on his tongue, “...Liebling.”

Pointing a finger at him with a grin more befitting a shark than a person, she said, “I’m going to figure it out. Just watch. Keep whispering those sweet Zemnian nothings, I’m going to figure out what they mean.”

A game. She wanted to play a game. The belated realization came to him that _ of course _ Jester Lavorre, clever trickster that she was, would like to be teased and challenged. Well...why not? With how different Zemnian was from Common, she may not be able to translate his words at all if he set the rules right.

Keeping his hands locked behind his back lest they act on their own accord again, trying to be teasing, to keep up the _ game _ , Caleb leaned forward until her finger met his chest. “Mach weiter und versuch es, mein liebes Fräulein.” He lowered his face down towards hers, not close enough to kiss her, but closer than, say, a _ regular _ friend would. “No dictionaries.”

Her teeth flashed in the lamplight. “Deal!”

Her finger disappeared from his chest, and Caleb made a motion in preparation to playfully shake her hand. But instead, her index finger caught his. Not her hand or her pinky, but her _ index _ finger. She squeezed it as she looked him in the eye. “Gute Nacht, Herr Widogast.”

His eyes widened.

_ She already knows. _

Jester turned on her heel with a giggle, her tail sliding out from around his calf (when had _ that _ gotten there?) and sashayed up the stairs. She spared him a coy glance over her shoulder and wiggled her fingers in a little wave before disappearing around the corner.

As soon as she was out of sight, Caleb all but collapsed against the bannister. That familiar friend of his, Panic, threatened to overtake him as his heart beat a million miles per hour. Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh _ fuck _.

No, wait. It could have been that she only knew the motion was connected with the phrase she had attempted to repeat, not what the phrase itself meant. Granted, there was a large amount of context there, but she knew very, very little of the language itself. It shouldn’t make that much of a difference anyway, he had already told her how he felt...but an indirect admission using a past event was different than an actual, present confession, right? It had to be. Otherwise, she would know that things were much more serious for him than what their watered-down, halfway point between friendship and..._ something more _ implied. _ He _ hadn’t even known things were that serious for him until an hour and a half ago, for _ her _ to already know would be...

_ ‘Eegh leeb-uh deegh.’ _

Caleb hid his flushed face and delirious smile in his arms, knowing he shouldn’t feel so happy at her mimicking the sounds of what he had said, that he didn’t have the _ right _ to feel this happy at all. Hells, he didn’t even know what the two of them _ were _ , or what would be considered too much or too little for the vague parameters Jester had set. And the future...fuck if he even knew what he _ wanted _ after tonight. It was like staring into a Beacon, watching a thousand possibilities unfold and not feeling in control of a single one. No matter which path he chose, someone would end up hurt.

He sighed.

_ What the fuck have I gotten myself into? _

Yet still, a smile lingered on his face as his normally overwhelming worries faded into a soft hum. No matter what fate he deserved, what the future held, or what consequences would come after tonight, there was one thing he knew for sure about this dizzying balancing act into which he had stumbled.

He would do it all over again, if given the chance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! I've got ideas for further chapters for both the original and this version of the story (this one may get an update before the other one), so stay tuned if you are interested :)


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